Page 47 of Bleed with Me

The girl looked impossibly small on the gurney, her head secured in a pediatric collar and her body trembling beneath the straps. Long blonde curls were matted with blood against her tear-soaked cheeks. Her coral-blue eyes darted wildly around the room while cuts covered her arms and a dark stain spread across the pressure dressing on her abdomen. She screamed whenever someone leaned too close, raw and panicked, the sound ripping through the hall and straight through my chest.

“Hey,” I said, stepping in close and blocking her view of the lights and the strangers surrounding her. My voice dropped, cutting clean through the noise. “Hey, angel. Look at me.”

Her eyes found mine and clung to me as if I were the only solid thing left in the world.

“There you are.” I smiled, gentle but confident, like alarms, blood, and broken glass didn’t surround me. “I’m Dorian.” My hands moved with practiced precision while my voice seemed to get her attention off the whole circus. “I’m the guy who makes pain behave. You’re safe now.”

Her scream broke into sobs, breath hitching, little hands trying to curl inward protectively before wincing in pain.

“Don’t move her yet,” I ordered calmly, my fingers hovering just above her skin, gently assessing the injuries. “Let me see where the worst bleeding is.”

My hands and brain split into parallel tracks. My gaze never left her face, while I cataloged the injuries. Cuts and abrasions along both legs, shallow but bleeding. Bruising blooming purple through her ribs. A long slash across her abdomen, glass-clean and terrifying at first glance. Blood matted in her hair, a laceration near the scalp. And…

“Glass in the forearm,” a resident announced.

I saw it. A jagged shard was embedded deep in her left forearm, the skin stretched and inflamed around it. It looked terrifying, but the abdominal wound was the one that could kill her.

“Hurts,” she cried, her tiny voice spearing my ears. “It hurts everywhere.”

“I know, angel,” I whispered, glancing at the huge piece, yet my mind was elsewhere. “I promise I’ll do my best to make it stop.” I looked at her with an encouraging smile. “I just need a little time, okay? We’ll get through it together.”

“Okay?” she mumbled, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

“Don’t worry, just stay still and keep your eyes on me.” My mind quickly worked on the best approach while her petrified eyes literally pierced my soul.

“Trauma bay one. We’re moving,” I commanded, holding her because she winced when we rolled her into the room.

“What’s your name, angel?” I asked while putting on gloves.

She sniffed hard, trying to be brave and failing spectacularly.

“A-Aryna,” she whispered.

“What a beautiful, strong name,” I praised, nodding at the nurse. “Do you remember mine?”

Her blood-matted brows furrowed slightly as she watched me through tear-filled eyes.

“D-Dorian,” she said in a thin voice, wincing when the nurse touched her.

“Perfect.” I smiled, standing at her head to make room for my colleague. “Two large-bore IVs,” I requested, keeping my gaze locked with Aryna. “And I need to see inside. FAST scan, now.”

The high-pitched, panicked scream broke through the room. The nurse raised her head, looking at me as she waited for a command. Aryna shrieked at the sight of the needle, pure animal fear tearing out of her chest, but we didn’t have time to waste.

I firmly put a hand on her shoulder, grounding her to the bed. I lowered myself to her level, hoping my voice and presence would overpower the panic that could kill her. I couldn’t sedate her yet, not before I knew if she bled internally.

“Hey, angel, look at me.” Thankfully, she reacted, heavy sobs lifting her small chest. “It’s just a tiny pinch, nothing more. I promise.”

She flinched when the nurse seized the brief moment of stillness and did her job. Fluids started running, but her color barely improved. I glanced at the shard of glass embedded in her forearm.

“Stabilize the arm,” I ordered without taking my eyes off her abdomen. “Bulky dressing. Do not remove it here. Vitals?”

“BP dropping,” another nurse called out as the FAST scan machine rolled in. “Heart rate one-sixty.”

Fuck! I cursed mentally, already knowing we were in big trouble. I took the probe as I always did with kids. I trusted my hands more than anyone else’s when the stakes were this high.

“Aryna, this is going to be a little cold,” I warned her, smearing the gel gently over her skin. She whimpered, her fingers twitching, but she held on. “I know. I’m sorry.”

I moved the probe slowly, my trained eyes instantly seeing the problem. Black bloomed on the screen where it had no business being. My suspicions were confirmed.